Traces
by Bookworm1986
Summary: Inspired by a conversation I had with LilMisfit about S4 and the promos. Have finished all 3 chapters and will post them today. Caution for lots of Carrie swearing.
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

A/N inspired by a conversation I had with LilMisift about S4/promos. So many thanks to LilMisfit for that conversation which put this idea in my head.

Caution for lots of Carrie swearing.

* * *

She could feel their eyes on her, their concern and it only increased her ire and her anger. A tidal wave of emotions were building inside of her and she was the unexploded bomb in this room. She was the one with the fucking switch now. She needs a phone call from the man she loves to pull her back from the brink, but a phone would be of no use. She needs a fucking ouija board. The tears prickle at her eyes. She needs to not cry in front of them. They wouldn't mind, but she would. If Quinn looks at her with gooey eyes one more fucking time, she'll find that fucking screwdriver he's so fond of and gouge his fucking eyes out…or her own. It doesn't really matter.

Carrie continues to watch the screen determined, ignoring them as best as she can. She vaguely hears a soft voice calling her name as though from far away, until she realises the voice is in the room.

"Carrie?"

Carrie turns her head towards the source of the voice to find Saul looking at her with deep concern.

"You don't have to watch."

Once upon a time his advice and support meant everything to her. Once upon a time she would have been the one to request his presence here.

"It's ok", he continues in a soft, gentle voice meant to convey his understanding, but he didn't understand and every word out of his mouth these days only made her feel worse. That tone is like nails on a chalkboard to her now. She'd gladly rip her ears off if it meant she didn't have to hear it again. There are so many thoughts racing through her mind, on a collision course with the words circling the same space. Each fighting for control and swirling together in a bout of fury, like a Tornado, furiously crashing its way around inside her head. Picking up everything in its way, angrily forcing everything together, destroying as it goes and making it impossible for her to verbalise her feelings.

"No. It's not!", she manages harshly, turning away from him. Now she feels the eyes of everyone in the room on her. Those who know her and those still getting to know her. Those who know what is wrong and those who haven't quite figured it out yet.

Still, she stares at the screen until everyone turns away from her and back to the screen themselves…or almost everyone. She still feels those two pairs of eyes trained on her.

* * *

"There he is", Tony points out their young informant, even younger on the footage they were watching.

Carrie resists the urge to snort as everyone leans forward simultaneously. She had spotted him ages ago.

He wouldn't tell Carrie his name and she didn't blame him for that. She had taken to calling him "A" in conversation. She felt the need to give him an identity. He was very reluctant to help her and she didn't blame him for that either. She hoped she could help him. She really did, but she was conscious that nothing ever works out the way you want it to. She meant it when she told him she wanted to help, but the truth of those words would not matter to him if she couldn't help, if she failed…if he was still alive to feel as though she had betrayed him.

"People deserve to know the truth," his distraught words echo in her head as his younger self searches for the bodies of his younger brothers amongst the rubble. How many years ago now? And he stills speaks as though it were yesterday. But, then why wouldn't he? The world didn't care and they were his brothers.

She sees the horrible reality crash down upon his young shoulders as he finds them, crushing any hope he may have had that they would survive or that they were not there at all. He is on his knees, frozen in time for a while before it hits him. Then, he is clawing at rocks and dust, trying to free them, but he cannot. Though physically he should be strong enough, the grief is already weighing him down and he collapses in a heap next to where they are. The wail of grief reverberates round the room.

"How do we know we can trust him? How has he even ended up in Pakistan for a start?"

Carrie clenches her fists. She doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with Quinn these days, but she doesn't fucking like it. She refuses to answer.

The room is silent and waiting for an answer. She feels the eyes on her again. She hates them all in this moment for not being able to look at the damage caused.

"Carrie, how do we know we can trust him?", Quinn repeats.

She's not answering that fucking question. There's no reason why he should want to help them not when you look at what was done to his family, but she won't condemn him with her words.

"Carrie, we need to know", Saul tries prodding gently, as he and Quinn, quickly glance at each other, eyes shining with concern before looking back at her.

Carrie sees even Quinn's slight blanch at the look she is giving them. God, she wants to tear her hair out. Wishes they'd fuck off some place she wasn't.

"Or maybe, he needs to know he can trust us", she snaps back, wondering as she did so, how the fuck that could even be possible.

"Carrie…", Quinn begins.

"The next fucking person to say my name is getting a fucking bullet in them", Carrie threatens, looking around the room. "And it won't be in the fucking shoulder", she growls, looking at Quinn.

* * *

Although the air is now thick with tension, Carrie welcomes the silence, save for the words and sounds from the footage.

She looks for A and sees he is now laying down next to where his brothers are, so still he might be dead as well. Except she knows he's not and wishes someone would help him.


	2. Fall to pieces

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

* * *

Carrie leans forward. She doesn't know whether to smile or cry. Someone cares. Someone always cares. One person, just one, matters and it was the one she had been expecting. She'd seen him earlier in the footage, over a lifeless, tiny body. Issa's she presumed. Yet here he was coming to aid others who needed it. His training kicking in, allowing him to help. He lifted A off the ground and then set about removing his brothers from the rubble.

Back in the present, she hears the shifting in seats, feels the stares and their discomfort, as those who hadn't spotted him earlier now realise who and what they are seeing.

"Maybe we should turn it off. I think we've seen enough", Quinn says to Fara.

Fara nods her head in understanding and points the control at the screen.

"Do not turn that off, Fara", Carrie orders.

Fara looks between her and Quinn, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"Maybe Quinn is right", Tony interjects on Fara's behalf.

"If anyone has a problem watching this, they can leave", Carrie speaks to everyone.

Fara tentatively puts the control back on the table. No one moves.

* * *

The two little boys laying side by side, unmoving, as their brother holds their hands. What he is saying, Carrie doesn't know, but Brody does…did. Perhaps he is calling their names over and over hoping they will come back to him if he shouts long and loud enough.

She feels overtaken by an anger she has never felt before. Not when it happened. Not even when she took Walden's insistence that they had nothing to do with it, as confirmation that they had. Maybe it is because of Brody or because she's a mother now. Maybe it is both. Furious, she forces herself to focus back on the footage.

A is not a little boy. He is a teenager, but he is sobbing against Brody's chest like a baby, grief pouring out of him and Brody just lets him. The footage is so close now that Carrie can see Brody's soft blue eyes sad and brimming with tears as he comforts a child in need.

Eventually a woman appears and after some coaxing A is convinced to go with her as men lift up the bodies of his brothers, taking them away, perhaps to prepare them for burial. Carrie knew that Islamic burials are required to take place as soon as possible after death.

More men appear with spades and buckets. Their anger is easy to see. One of them roughly passes a spade to Brody.

"They're going to make him do it all", Tony says sadly.

"He'd do it anyway", Carrie answers emphatically. Everyone looks at her. She does not look away, daring any one of them to argue with her. She knows it, just as she's always known things about him. He does not need to be made to do this. He wants to…and it is going to destroy him.

* * *

They fast forward some of the footage, but Carrie never takes her eyes off of Brody. She needs to share his pain and grief even if it is far too late to help him. He stays all day clearing rubble, freeing bodies and helping others with their grief. The soldier in him, but Carrie sees clearly rock by rock, body by body, family by family, his façade of strength slowly crumbling from within. The slight hunch in his shoulders, his movements taking longer, punctuated by tiredness and loss.

Exhaustion takes its toll on those clearing the rubble. Some leaving with the likely intention of coming back the next morning. Others simply collapse where they stood.

A man appears, putting his hand on Brody's shoulder apparently trying to get him to leave. Brody shakes him off and keeps going, redoubling his efforts. The man watches for a couple of minutes before turning back the way he came.

Still, Brody methodically works away at clearing whatever he can. Every rock he lifts is like a dagger through Carrie's heart because every rock he clears away a part of him goes with it. Breaking into thousands of pieces that cannot be put back together again.

* * *

Another man appears now and Carrie feels sick as she realises who it is. He speaks to Brody, but Brody seems to be defying him, as he continues to clear rock after rock.

Abu Nazir watches for a while as the sun sets in the background. He allows Brody his defiance. Eventually he steps forward, closer to Brody, putting his hand on Brody's shoulder and speaking softly to him. Brody finally collapses to the ground, his own grief now taking over and Abu Nazir pulls Brody's head to his chest.

The darkness creeps over everything, shrouding Brody and Nazir. Carrie can't help but feel it is appropriate. Lost forever in that moment. Carrie feels the dagger in her heart twist with the realisation that when Brody needed comfort the most, the only person there for him was Abu Nazir. There to take advantage.

The room suddenly feels like it is compressing in on her and she is more aware than ever of everyone else's presence whether they are staring at her or not.

But she won't, she refuses to cry in front of them. She stands up and leaves the room.

A/N I know I am taking a bit of liberty with the footage. However, I am going on the basis Walden would have made sure it wouldn't have gotten around to such an extent and quantity that people would be able to pick Brody out…and as if he'd be paying enough attention to notice Brody anyway. There is also of course the possibility of not noticing him because of how he is dressed or because you don't expect to see him there. Carrie will always notice Brody.


	3. Uncertainty

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

A/N trying to balance sadness and a little humour in this chapter was difficult.

* * *

Carrie hears the footsteps approaching her office. Sighing, she leans her head back against her chair, closing her eyes. Why the fuck couldn't he leave her alone? He is the last person she wants to speak to right now.

She hears him come in and sit down. She ignores him. Doesn't open her eyes, hoping he will go away. Seconds and minutes go by and she knows he is still there. She knows he could feasibly sit here for hours. Damn him and his patience. She's at a loss as to what to do, because the truth is that she doesn't have anything to say to him.

He's probably reading her body language and assessing how best to open the conversation. This thought and the silence stretching out in front of her are doing nothing to calm her irritation.

"The tyranny of secrets", Saul's voice finally pierces through the wall of silence that has been building between them.

Four words, four little words that say more than he or any of his actions have over the last 11 months.

Carrie opens her eyes, responding "the tyranny of keeping them."

"What do you want to do?", Saul asks.

"I don't know. He wants the truth out and I want to help, but I'm not sure I can. I don't like it. I may have condemned A just by speaking to him."

"You can't take responsibility for what others do."

"What about what we do, or what we don't? Can I take responsibility for that?"

"You're in charge here…"

Carrie snorts. So in charge she doesn't know what the fuck she wants to do.

"But, Quinn does have a point."

"So do I", Carrie can't help letting her irritation express itself.

"Yes, you do, but you have to ask yourself these questions as upsetting as they may be. I'm going to start with where did that footage come from? Someone was filming continuously."

Carrie looks up sharply, "shit, I never…", she trails off. She had been so occupied with anguish over Brody, the fact someone had that much footage never occurred to her.

"thought of that", Saul finishes for her.

* * *

Another silence threatens to spread out in front of them, but Carrie can't stand it.

"Fucking, Nazir. I get you and he gets Nazir. How in the fuck is that fair?"

It is to his credit Saul can keep up with her change of subject,"you'd rather you got Nazir?"

"I'd rather no one got him", Carrie shoots back at him.

"Besides, Brody is too fucking tall for me to hug and I'm not sure he'd appreciate the beard", Saul continues as though Carrie had not spoken.

"I don't appreciate the fucking beard. It scratches", Carrie responds before she can stop herself.

Saul smiles softly at her, but she can't return it. Not yet. She's not ready.

"I hate you", she whispers half-heartedly to him.

"No, you don't", he whispers back.

Carrie stands up moving to the window of her office, staring out of it.

"No, I don't. But…but sometimes, recently, I want to."

"I know."

"It'll be a year next week."

"I know."

"I'm struggling with…with everything. With what is right and…him not being here."

"I know."

"Stop fucking saying I know."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't fucking know", Carrie responds irritated, wrapping her arms around herself.

"They don't know. It's nearly a year and they still don't know. Do you think they're better off not knowing?", Carrie turns to look at Saul for guidance, feeling for all the world like a lost little girl.

Saul stands up and walks over to her and she allows him to pull her into a hug.

"What do you think?", he asks softly.

"That they're his family and they have a right to know."

"Do you think they would want to?"

"I don't know. I'll tell you what I do know though", Carrie says as Saul laughs lightly at her previous answer.

"What?"

Carrie buries her head in his chest again, "you need a fucking shave."


End file.
